


Let There Be Light

by just_ann_now



Category: Swordspoint Series - Ellen Kushner
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:31:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_ann_now/pseuds/just_ann_now
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ficlet series inspired by the "Let There Be Light" challenge at the LJ community Tolkien_weekly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night Moves (Starlight)

**Night Moves**

 _The scholar hadn’t even had time to move out of the way. He stared down at poor Dan. “You should have let him,” he said. “It wasn’t his business,” said St. Vier. But I was out there, and I saw: He hadn’t drawn until Dan did. Whatever he was planning to do with the scholar, it wasn’t the long cold kiss of steel, as the poets say. “Would you like a drink?” They walked back into Rosalie’s tavern together, and that was that. From then on, you never saw them apart._

 _“The Duke of Riverside” by Ellen Kushner. Datlow, Ellen (2011-07-05). Naked City: Tales of Urban Fantasy (p. 89). Macmillan. Kindle Edition._

 

"Come on," Richard said, after they'd finished their beers.

They walked down Brixter’s Alley towards the bridge. Every now and again the scholar, Alec, would look down at him, then away, half-smiling, but without that sly, cynical grin he'd always had before. Things were different now between them. Richard could almost taste it, like the tang of salt air. He knew what was going to happen, and Alec knew it, too; where they were going and what they were going to do there.

The sky overhead was clear. The night was full of stars, full of endless possibilities.


	2. Reunion (Twilight)

"Hello," said Alec. "I've brought us some fish."

Richard rubbed his eyes. Alec stood by the table, waiting.

"Come here," Richard said, shifting his body on the chaise, opening his arms wide.

Alec curled himself into the hollow under Richard's shoulder. They lay quietly for few moments, their breathing soft. Indigo twilight seeped in around the shutters. The cat purred contentedly at them from the hearth.

"You smell good," Richard murmured, nuzzling Alec's hair.

Alec sniffed Richard's armpit. "So do you. We smell clean, for a change."

Richard chuckled. "It won't last."

"No," Alec said, unbuttoning Richard's shirt. "It won't".


	3. Uptown (Candlelight)

The candles were the first to go. No more guttering, greasy-smoked tallow; boxes and boxes of fine beeswax tapers were sent down from Tremontaine House. "From the butler's pantry," Alec announced. "Why not? It's _my_ butler's pantry. My butler, my candles, my beeswax and my bees, for that matter. What's the point of having nice things if you don't enjoy them?"

Richard's dragon candlesticks gleamed in the candlelight. The soft scent of bayberry filled the room. Alec slouched on the same threadbare chaise, thumbing through the same three tattered books. _Not bad so far,_ Richard thought, wondering what would change next.


	4. Alone (Torchlight)

The flicker of torchlight was reflected on wet cobblestones. The courtyard was empty, the carriage long gone. Alec had watched from his bedroom as it rode away. They had said their farewells here; no need to make a show for the household staff.

Still he stood at the window, his head pressed against the glass. The chill of the windowpane had not eased his aching head, nor had the brandy. He thought that drugs might, but couldn’t rouse himself to walk across the room. "Idiot, idiot, idiot," he kept saying to himself, pretending it was Richard he was speaking to.


	5. Night at Highcombe (Moonlight)

"Can you see in the dark?"  
"No, but night sounds completely different." ( _The Privilege of the Sword_ )

 

He shouldn't know when the world is bathed in moonlight, but he does. Night sounds different from day; not just the lack of constantly chittering humanity, but the calls of hunting owls, the beat of wingstrokes overhead. Moonlight smells like cedar. It tastes like freshly fallen snow.

There'll be time enough to sleep when he's dead. Moonlight calls him in the sound of rustling grass. _Come, dance with me, Silverblade,_ she sings, and he dances, feeling more alive than he ever does by day.

Katherine watches from her window. She's afraid to feel that alive. She's not ready. Not yet.


	6. Timeless (Lamplight)

The cabin was tinier than tiny. Alec had already banged his head, twice, coming down the hatchway. At least it wasn't dark; a comforting light flickered from the small oil lamp that was suspended by a short chain from the ceiling. Alec sat down to remove his boots, leaving room for Richard to squeeze past him. Suddenly, the ship lurched, pitching Richard on to Alec's lap. Whooping with laughter, they wrapped their arms around each other.

Their kiss was long and satisfying. Alec sighed. Richard reached forward, exploring Alec's face with his fingertips.

"What do you look like now?" he whispered.

"What do I look like?" Alec murmured. "The same as I always looked. My nose is still long and pointed; still looking down on people, I suppose. No more than most of them deserve. Cheekbones are still there. Lots of hair. A bit thinner, perhaps, but still long."

Richard chuckled, brushing a soft strand behind Alec's ear. "Have you gone grey at all?"

"Grey! Me? Never! Well, perhaps a tinge of silver. Not too much. I don't hold with dyeing it, especially once Ferris started. I'd be damned if I was going to follow any trend he started, but then, he did have a child bride to court. It wouldn't do to look too grandfatherly."

"You certainly don't have to worry about that now, and neither does she." Richard said. Alec chuckled.

"And what do _I_ look like?" Richard asked.

"You've got some silver in your hair, not too much. Your eyes - not so deep a blue as they were. Less hyacinth, more violet, if the garden was in the shade. Less delphinium, I'd say, more forget-me-not."

Richard snorted. "You've been spending too much time in the garden. Do I look older?"

"Ha! Vanity! No, not any older. Not one bit older. Ageless." Alec pulled him close and kissed him again. "Ageless."


	7. Content (Firelight)

"If I'd wanted to be cold, I'd have stayed in Riverside," Alec grumbled.

"You'd not have been any warmer in The Old Fort, waiting on a murder trial," Richard murmured.

Kyros so far was not what they'd expected - lashing rain and howling wind, winter's last gasp. The inn, though, was snug enough, and they'd piled on every cloak, coat, and blanket they could find. The innkeeper kept them supplied with hot red wine, honey-sweet and fragrant with cinnamon, which seemed to be softening Alec's complaints somewhat.

Richard felt content. It could rain all it wanted; sooner or later it would stop. For now, though, they had wine, and cheese and olives, and good crusty bread. He couldn't see the firelight, but he could imagine it, its glow warming Alec's hair to bronze and silver, and his skin to old ivory. They were here. They were alive. They were together.


	8. The Garden, at Kyros (Sunlight)

On damp, dreary days, Richard often imagined this: lying naked in dappled sunlight, their bodies entwined, breezes caressing them as bees droned nearby. It was like a fairy-story, an impossible dream for a swordsman and his rogue scholar.

Yet here they are at last.

Richard does not need to see it at all; the heat of the sun has burnished it into the skin inside his eyelids. The breeze, the bees, Alec warm and pliant in his arms. They are not old men, runaways, exiles on this foreign shore, but lovers, forever young and strong, lying sated in the sun.


	9. Blessèd (Sunlight, by request)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec's response to "The Garden, at Kyros". By request, for Manyfacesofme22.

By the gods, as much as he had always loved that city ( _Ah! His city!_ ), in memory now, it mouldered, cold, grey, damp. Whereas blessèd Kyros seemed to be bathed in endless sunlight (never mind those first few days, a wet winter's last gasp), the grass delectably warm and soft underfoot.

It seemed the most natural thing, here, to pull Richard down, laughing; to peel away shirts and trews and anything at all that kept them from lying together skin to skin. The sunlight, like a kiss of peace on their bodies, and the bees droning, like a chanted prayer.


End file.
